


Lilac Flowers

by cano



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Angst, Bitterness, M/M, a fic in which both of them can't let go but can't really hold on either
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2017-01-16
Packaged: 2018-09-17 10:23:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9319484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cano/pseuds/cano
Summary: Jeonghyun asks, “Walk with me?” and it’s more a formality than anything else, because Gwangjin never quite learned how to tell himno.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set in Winter 2016, and fuck my life Mandu and Piglet are never getting back together aren't they?  
> The inspiration for this fic was: They say lilac petals taste like first love (they taste bitter as fuck) and I thought, that’s totally Mandu and Piglet.   
>  ~~and no I have never actually tried them I just read a korean article on this shit (and yes they have actual news articles about what lilacs taste like) and wrote a fic off of that~~

The visit to his - no longer his - old gaming house is out of the blue and sudden. Gwangjin kind of regrets it as soon as he gets out of the taxi; they haven’t moved, still living in that same gaming house located in Ilsan, so on that account it’s not really his fault that he remembered and rattled off the address burned in his hindbrain and there’s no actual reason _not_  to visit them-

but then again they’d be practicing like usual, _winning_  like usual, and the thought of the almost _casual_  schedule full of practices and the casual, _casual_ wins - and accepting them as the norm - makes his stomach turn and reminds him that such sights are no longer the norm for _him._  

What really drives the nail in that coffin of regrets is, though, seeing Lee Jeonghyun standing in front of him, next to the entrance of the building.

“Long time no see,” greets Jeonghyun, and Gwangjin’s stomach drops.

He just stands like that for a minute, speechless and unresponsive and unable to believe that it’s fucking _Lee Jeonghyun_  standing right there; a million thoughts go through his head but nothing actually come out of his mouth so eventually Jeonghyun asks, “Walk with me?” and it’s more a formality than anything else, because Gwangjin never quite learned how to tell him _no_. 

He turns on his heels and Gwangjin follows, cursing himself, breaking into a quick run to catch up and Jeonghyun not-quite noticeably slows down to match the pace of the much shorter companion. Like muscle memory.

They walk for a long while, no conversation between them but it’s not that awkward, or maybe it is and Gwangjin just doesn’t notice because he’s too busy trying to find out what Jeonghyun wants from him and _not die from a sudden heart attack._

God, he really hasn’t changed, has he? Not after a different team, two downgrades (from Korea to North America, from a starter to a sub) he hasn’t fucking learned. Because seeing Jeonghyun in the flesh still makes his breath catch and fall into that same old rhythm, that same dangerous old pattern, and he deludes himself into thinking that maybe, just maybe, they can step back into where they left off like hitting the play button on a paused movie when it really doesn’t work like that. He should know. Life doesn’t come with pause buttons but for a moment - a trick of the light, a blink of the eye - he can almost fool himself into believing that time has indeed stopped for him, and he’s stepping into this - whatever the fuck _this_  is between him and Jeonghyun - just like stepping into that place right behind Jeonghyun’s shadow, forever going ahead.

Gwangjin so caught up in the inner turmoil that when Jeonghyun finally stops, he nearly bumps into the giant mass of height that is Lee Jeonghyun. He stares as if you say _what are you doing, you idiot, we’re here,_  and Gwangjin glares. Then he looks around and finally takes in the surroundings to see where they are - they're in front of a Korean bbq place they’re both used to, when they’d been _playing_  on the same team before. They used to come here because it was rather cheap for the quantity, and they were still newbies back then with smaller paychecks.  They’d come to this very place pretty often, now that he remembers. He tries to forcefully squish down the memories that pop up; Sanghyeok playing LeBlanc competitively for the first time and they’d come out to celebrate the (relatively) pristine KDA, Eonyeong complaining good-naturedly about how hard it is as a toplaner in the laneswap meta, Seongwoong laughing with his eyes like usual, and the two of them in a hassle of back-and-forth about picking Nami (and _just_  Nami, for the love of god, hyung) and picking Vayne (Holy Jesus not that _cockroach_ again, and no, I don’t _care_  if you insist you know how to play it, little brat).

He’s still lost in thought when the food arrives. Jeonghyun has to poke at him with the chopsticks and he inwardly curses himself - dammit, he was mooning over something pointless. _Again_.

Gwangjin forces himself to stay in the present, with an effort. He makes small talk like; “How’s the salary as a coach?” and when Jeonghyun answers with “Enough,” he forces himself to grin and say shit he doesn’t mean, “Maybe I’ll be a coach when I retire.” Jeonghyun doesn’t _laugh_  outright at that, but the smirk tugging at the corners of his lips are just as Gwangjin remembers as he says “ _You_  coaching someone? You don’t know the definition of patience. One week, tops, and you’ll quit.” 

“Would _not,_ ” Gwangjin retorts, prickly.

“No, you’d just get frustrated, then bench him, and then demand play on the team in his place,” Jeonghyun _then_  laughs, starting off as small chuckles that break into something looser and louder.

They carefully don’t mention anything about this year’s Worlds, or the fact this is SKT’s third World Championship win. They manage to stick to talking about whatever little life outside of League of Legends, and when League _does_  creep into the conversation (it can’t be helped) Jeonghyun discusses the meta, the inevitable upcoming patches, and Gwangjin complains about the lack of impact an ADC has in the current state of the game.

“I mean,” he starts, shoveling the rest of the meat-rice-lettuce combo into his mouth in an hurried attempt to make his point. “You are punished _way_  too heavily if you make a single mistake; assassins oneshot you, tanks _ignore_  you and still outtrade you by some fucking ridiculous logic. And even if you play _really well_  like 10/0 in lane, that shit I just talked about happens.” He pauses to chew the bits falling out of his mouth and also Jeonghyun looks faintly disgusted by that, in that way he expresses himself by scrunching his entire face and just _projecting_. Gwangjin feels a little proud of himself.

“Anyway, my point is that as of now, as an ADC, you’re rewarded too little for your good plays, while punished too heavily for a single mistake,” he announces, grand and final.

And pauses, because Jeonghyun isn’t making a sharp remark or biting back. Instead, he’s glancing at Gwangjin, corners of his mouth turned ever so slightly up, something like _pride_  faint on his features. Gwangjin almost does a double take, because that hyung _never_ stared at him like that before, he’d always, _always_  give a bored or scathing or mocking reply back and he had _expected_  that, and Jeonghyun has _changed -_

So he just ends up staring at Jeonghyun, drinking in the sight of him, observing the former supporter now-turned-coach. _Oh._

Jeonghyun is older now, he wears suits and stands behind players and discusses strats instead of playing them in-game. Gwangjin also swears by all the soju he ever drank that Jeonghyun is fatter, he’s defintely progressing into the old man stage - lazy, fat, content - but Gwangjin can still spot Jeonghyun’s peculiar jawline despite some fat covering it, glasses frames he refuses to change, the unreadable look in his eyes still same.

Some things never do.

And he stops that train of thought right there because that’s heading into dangerous territory, things like _summer_ and _Worlds_  and _winning._

And he’s backtracking; it’s summer of 2013 again and it’s amazing how easily Jeonghyun does this, how he falls all over again.

The rush of victory is sweet on his tongue and it’s gone as fast as the scent of lilac petals in the air. Suddenly the bitter rush of failure fills his mouth and it’s 2014, the nights hot enough to make him sweat through his cotton T-shirts and soak them completely. The lack of wins, his skill, his teammates - everything is frustrating he spends sleepless nights struggling with his champion pool, the laneswaps, the meta, with the excuse that the heat keeps him awake anyway.

The nights are quietly devastating but the mornings are openly disastrous. At least at night, his failings are limited to soloque, to him alone. The mornings are scrims and practices and duos and _failure as a team._ On slightly better days, he can barely hold up his head. On bad days it ends in a screaming match he’s not sure who started but ends with everyone saying at least one horrible thing about each other’s mother.

They don’t make worlds that year and there are tears in his eyes and his mouth is dry with the taste of bitterness chased by his tongue. 

\--

They drag it out as long as they can, heading to a cafe afterwards to get coffee for Gwangjin and some fruit blend drink for Jeonghyun because he’s old now, and doesn’t run on caffeine anymore. Gwangjin deliberates whether the guaranteed head smack he’ll get is worth the teasing about Jeonghyun’s age, and ultimately decides against it. He’s had plenty of teasings over the course of the dinner anyway. Although he wishes he bared the physical pain and teased him anyway, as the talks become more and more abrupt. Finally they run out of things to talk about as the conversation lulls to a stop, and the two of them just sit with the pretense of being full and lazy to move. 

Eventually, they have to go. Jeonghyun stands up and Gwangjin almost immediately follows suit.

“Which way do you go?” Jeonghyun asks.

“Little bit towards Gangnam - not  _Gangnam_ , but that direction.” Gwangjin replies. 

“Far?” is the question.

“Not much,” he shrugs. “It’s a short taxi ride away. It’s like a two subway station distance, but the buses and subway stations are kinda far, so I prefer taxi.” 

Jeonghyun nods, and doesn’t say anything so Gwangjin is the one asking “what about you?” and Jeonghyun just states, “I’m probably gonna take a taxi too,” and starts tapping on his phone to arrange a ride. Gwangjin swallows a joke about Jeonghyun’s hatred of exercise. It’s enough that he’s standing here, waiting for a taxi the same time he himself is. It should be enough.

He tries to repeat that to himself as a sleek taxi pulls up, and he checks his phone. Not his. It’s for Jeonghyun. 

Jeonghyun waves the taxi over and looks at Gwangjin, and climbs into the car. “Guess I’m going first,” he says. Gwangjin manages a smile, and suddenly remembers something and digs around in his pocket and peels three 10,000 won bills out of his wallet. “For the fare,” he simply says. “Since you paid for dinner.” 

Jeonghyun looks - incredulous, actually. Gwangjin kind of wants to laugh. “I’m not going to Busan, you do know that, right,” he utters while completely deadpan, and that actually makes Gwangjin chuckle.

“Just take it, you’re a coach - I make way more than you,” he laughs.

“I guess American money is worth more than Chinese money,” Jeonghyun retorts as he side-eyes his companion, but takes the money anyway, and climbs into the cab.

He doesn’t say goodbye, and neither does Gwangjin - they both don’t, because it feels too permanent. They’ve never really been good at goodbyes, and the last time they tried (the last time _Jeonghyun_  tried) Gwangjin screamed profanities at him, something about it being fucking unfair and he can’t leave like this, and meant _you can’t leave me like this_ , and ended up quitting the team too.

So yeah. 

Gwangjin waves until the cab disappears from his view, and only then does he breathe a sigh of relief. Seeing Jeonghyun is cathartic as it is self-destructive, and he knows. It breaks something in him, and at the same time, getting to _see_  Jeonghyun is something that he can never resist - it’s something akin to crashing a car in a full interstate highway, then surveying the wreckage in half-horror, half-admiration. It’s a mixed feeling of _I just did that_  and _well, shit_ and caught between never wanting to do it again, and immediately going for a second attempt.

Oh god, he’s starting to get philosophical.

 “Time to go,” he says out loud to himself. Time to practice until his fingers feel like they're falling off and lose himself in the rhythm of the game, time to surround himself with his teammates and debate over strategies and discuss teamwork. Until the present takes over the past, until he’s so lost in the day-to-day, until the methodical takes over his brain. Until he can forget, at least somewhat. 

_I was never in love with him_. Yeah, that sounds like a lie, even to his in-denial ears. He’ll need to practice to be half-convincing, at best.

It feels rather ordinary, going back to pretending everything is okay and pretending he still isn’t in love with Jeonghyun like crazy. 

It’s okay, he did it once before. He knows the steps now, so it’ll be easier. Probably.

**Author's Note:**

> _DEAR LEE JEONGHYUN AND CHAE GWANGJIN, PLEASE JUST CONFESS YOUR LOVE FOR ONE ANOTHER AND GO LIVE HAPPILY EVER AFTER BEFORE I COMBUST OF UNRESOLVED PINING ACROSS CONTIENTS_
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> ~~no, seriously, if one of them just _grew a pair_ and said what they feel, I wouldn't be writing these fics and we'd all be very happy.~~
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> My usual angst shit. Sorry for piling it on you guys. I thought I was getting better at moving away from angst with my crack/gen stories but nope! Have some emotionally stunted frustrations with a dash of bitterness.


End file.
